


I Do

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Implied Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Implied Michael/Adam Milligan, M/M, Omega Castiel, Scenting, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 18:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12870231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Castiel forced himself to go to his ex's wedding because it felt like the right thing to do, but attendance was only a painful reminder that he was an aging omega with slimming hope of finding a mate.At least the garden where the wedding is being held is suffused with the gorgeous smell of flowers...A birthday present for diminuel, shoehorned in to fit my SPN A/B/O Bingo square for Scenting.





	I Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SillyBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/gifts).



> I'm supposed to be writing murder husbands but it's been an exhausting week and all I want to do is mainline fluff so here, have some fluff.
> 
> Happy birthday, [diminuel!](http://diminuel.tumblr.com)

Watching the man Castiel had once thought the love of his life mate and marry a different omega proved less pleasant than Castiel expected. Not that he’d thought to enjoy Michael’s wedding – going had felt like an obligation, a way to prove he wasn’t going transform into the epitome of a catty, spited omega once Michael bit the knot with Adam – but he hadn’t expected it to _hurt_. He was over Michael. He truly, _truly_ was, he wasn’t just telling himself that. Watching Michael bend Adam over an arm, lapping at the blood from their newly-formed bond, evoked so many hopes and dreams that Castiel had once cherished for his future – _their_ future.

That blushing omega groom was supposed to be Castiel. He was going to have a husband, and a mate, and an alpha. They were going to be bonded, together, sharing a life, having pups…Castiel didn’t want Michael, didn’t miss Michael, but he still wanted that future, and the pain that he didn’t have that life to anticipate with joy was visceral. He wasn’t going to have that life with Michael, and, watching the other guests, scenting them, finding them nearly all paired off, as everyone he met was paired off…Castiel suspected he wasn’t going to find that connection with anyone, ever. He wasn’t getting younger. Even Michael, close to his contemporary, had ended up with someone a full decade their junior. Anyone over 30 struggled to find a mate, and for an omega it was even harder.

The powerful scent of new-formed mating bond swept over the assembly, prompting gasps and sympathetic tears and happy “awww’s” from those present. Castiel’s stomach roiled.

Fortunately, he’d taken a seat in the back of the open-sided tent; escaping was as easy as ducking into the open air and taking refuge behind an obliging hedge. The venue for the wedding was spectacular, a large tent assembled in the center of a hedge maze in the midst of an enormous, beautiful garden. An historical manor house loomed majestic nearby, lest the weather turn sour and the guests be forced to retreat indoors, but Michael and Adam couldn’t have had a more perfect day. The gardens were lovely, a fresh breeze dissipating the miasma enveloping Castiel, and he lost himself in the maze, followed a bee as it flittered in search of a bloom, searched for a rose bush the lovely smell of which ebbed and burgeoned with every wind gust. The maze stretched out around him, neatly trimmed bushes 8 feet tall routing him left and right, nearer and farther from the aroma. The stronger the scent grew, the closer Castiel came to the source, the more baffled he became. There were no rose bushes, no flowers of any kind, within the maze confines.

Castiel rounded a corner, the smell intensified beyond anything a mere bush could produce no matter how profuse its blossoms, and a gorgeous man stood there, scowling at the impenetrable wall of branches and leaves. A distant voice, words blurred but intonation obvious, suggested they’d approached the wedding venue again – only a single line of bushes separating them – and that the ceremony was concluding.

Their eyes met.

“Uh…” The man was as startled as Castiel, stepping back awkwardly until he collided with the bushes behind him. Castiel couldn’t name him alpha, beta or omega, but God he smelled as stunning as he looked, aromatic as perfume, as gorgeous as the unfolding petals of the flowers his scent mimicked. “Think I missed the wedding.”

Castiel was so lost in an imagined rose garden it took him a moment to process the implication of the man’s words. “That does tend to be the result of coming late,” he pointed out.

“Wasn’t late.” The man looked away, cheeks flushing as red as any rose. “It’s just…” He made a gesture toward the hedges.

“Wait…you’re lost in the maze?”

The man nodded sheepishly.

“The wedding started an _hour_ ago!”

“Sure, rub it in,” the man grumbled. _I’d like to rub something in…stop thinking like that, Castiel! Anyone who smells this sweet has got to be an omega, and even if he weren’t, at his age, and as gorgeous as he is, he’s not single. And even if he were…just_ stop _._ “I can hear the fucking thing, but I can’t…” He scowled at the plant as solid as a wall before them. The noise from beyond grew louder, rustling and clattering suggesting people rising, a hubbub of voices proving that there was no longer cause for the attendees to remain silent.

“There were maps at the entrance.”

“Shit…really? I didn’t see…hell, I bungled this to heck and back. Adam’s gonna kill me.”

“Spouse?” Castiel asked wisely.

The man blinked at him. “The groom? Ya know, the person getting married? You _are_ here for Michael and Adam’s wedding, right? Woah, woah, hold up, I know why _I’m_ stuck in this fucking maze instead of over there schmoozing – what the hell is your excuse?”

Castiel ran through a half-dozen replies before, reluctantly, settling on the truth. “I’m Michael’s ex-boyfriend. I wanted to be supportive but…” He shrugged. “I needed a break. But I should get back, since I believe after the reception is cocktail hour, and I’d hate for my absence to be noted or noteworthy. This is Michael and Adam’s day.”

“Hell…that’s when they do photos, right? I gotta get over there. Sam is gonna gimme hell…”

“Sam?” _His husband, maybe? Wait…why do I even care? And why do I keep immediately leaping to assuming everyone he mentions is his significant other? But…he’s so pretty…and he smells so good…_ Castiel’s rear was more slick than he’d care to admit. Damn biological responses he couldn’t control. “Wait – Sam is the name of Adam’s brother.”

“Nailed it,” the man said. “And I’m Adam’s other brother. Dean.” He thrust out a welcoming hand, the rose scent swirling around him, and Castiel took it. It was a brief shake, and Dean took his hand back in a hurry. Castiel’s stupidly inflated hopes crumbled. He liked how Dean smelled. A lot. But if Dean didn’t even want to touch him...well, it suggest _something_ , either that Dean didn’t like Castiel’s scent, or didn’t like him, or wasn’t into guys, or…any number of possibilities, all of which doused nascent dreams.

_It’s silly to think I’d meet someone now, like this – my thoughts wouldn’t even have tended in that direction, if I wasn’t sad and lonely and bemoaning the life I’ll never have._

_I hope this is the last wedding I ever attend._

“Castiel,” he offered forlornly. “I know the way through, I’ll get you to the photo shoot.” Turning on a heel, Castiel led the way back through the maze.

His hand smelled like roses.

He resisted the urge to lift it to his nose and inhale deeply.

They made awkward small talk as they went, but the journey was short (“embarrassingly short,” Dean said, looking mortified by his failure to find his own way) when one knew which turns to take, and Dean’s lackluster response to the handshake had Castiel in the doldrums. Castiel was good looking, but anyone who looked or smelled him knew what he was – an omega well past his prime with a pleasing if unremarkable fruity aroma. He smelled like a Yankee Candle…a trip to the mall and the purchase of a single overpriced jar of wax could substitute for him any day.

 _Besides, not everyone is fixated on relationships. Hell,_ I’m _not usually fixated on relationships…I’m fine…life is good…I could have a family on my own if I really wanted…it’s not that big a deal…but here, and now…_

A parting in the hedges before them revealed the tent, the wedding guests clustered in conversing groups like so many colorful butterflies, and Dean crowed triumph.

“Oh man, awesome – you’ve really saved my ass, thanks, Cas! I gotta bolt – bye!” With an adorable wave, Dean turned and fled, giving Castiel a mighty fine view of the well-tailored pants cradling the lovely ass he’d just saved.

 _Okay, maybe it’s not_ just _that I’m single at my ex’s wedding…Dean looks and smells fantastic…but that doesn’t mean he’s available. He certainly isn’t. Why would he be? Why would anyone our age be?_

_Why am I?_

Castiel sighed.

The cocktail hour passed in small talk and awkward socializing. Uniformed waiters threaded amid the guests, carrying platters of Champaign and hors d’oeurves. People Castiel knew, many of whom he hadn’t seen since he and Michael broke up, greeted him with genuine enthusiasm, and slowly Castiel’s unhappiness faded. It was a gorgeous day. Even single, he had a nice life. No one got everything they wanted. Renewing friendships was pleasant, the food was good, the gardens were gorgeous…what, really, did he have to complain about?

His hand still smelled like roses.

Every time he lifted his glass, he got a whiff of it – a whiff of _Dean_ – and his libido spiked. Sniffing his hand openly in public would be weird, and so Castiel found himself sipping frequently. _Getting my next hit_ …but scolding himself couldn’t stop the desire.

 _With a floral scent, Dean’s probably an omega…but if he’s single…he looked to be about my age…much older than his brother…maybe we could still be_ something _together…?_

The unreasonable thoughts smacked against Dean’s chill reaction to the handshake and kept Castiel from getting too high on attar and bubbly, mild wine.

The hour passed quicker than Castiel expected; while the guests chatted and nibbled, the staff swapped the ceremony’s rows of seating for large round tables, chairs, center pieces, a DJ set up and an expertly assembled wooden dance floor, transforming the space as if by magic into the reception venue. The music commenced and moments later the bridal party returned, smiling and laughing, Dean among them exchanging what, from a distance, looked to be good natured ribbing with a tall man walking arm and arm with a dainty, dark-haired woman. The interactions were intensely physical, intensely personal, but Castiel was pretty sure the tall man was Sam, Adam’s brother, and the woman his wife. The three switched easily between sign language and speech, and Castiel felt an unjustifiable jolt of jealousy, watching their comraderie.

_Why am I reacting like this? I barely know him! We talked for moments!_

_…and yet…_

_…maybe it’s scent compatibility? Or more?_

_Nonsense. True mates are a myth. And while I liked his scent, he didn’t react to mine. It’s just a crush, just physical attraction, and behaving like this is beneath me._

Nonetheless, the rebellious, foolishly optimistic part of his mind pointed out that there was no one clinging to Dean’s side as the woman clung to Sam’s. No amount of telling himself it meant nothing, proved something, could keep Castiel from scenting his hand again and hoping. Even over the combined scents of everyone in the room, and the overwhelming, overarching aroma of new-made mating bond, Castiel could smell the undertone of roses seeping from the table the brothers shared.

It took Castiel the entire meal to convince himself that it was worth going and _asking_ Dean if he wanted to dance.

The DJ announced the first dance…the grooms shared the floor, looking elated…the DJ opened the floor to everyone…couples from all over the room rose to join, the first set mandatory as a sign of respect and affection for the newly-weds...

The only people still sitting were Castiel, Dean, a handful of elders who were either widowed or divorced, and the children clustered at their own noisy table, gleefully scribbling on their table cloth with crayons.

Dean stared at the table top before him, grimacing, not looking around, not looking at the dance floor, clearly unaware of Castiel’s interest.

Stealing himself, Castiel rose, skirted the tent, strode to the wedding party’s table, and stopped opposite Dean, waiting to be acknowledged.

Dean didn’t respond, eyes vague and unfocused as he picked at his nails with a splinter.

_Beautiful, green eyes…_

_What does it matter? He’s flagrantly disinterested. This is futile._

_…just ask. What’s the worst that happens? Not nearly as bad as what’ll happen if this_ is _a chance and I miss it…_

“Um…”

Dean jumped to his feet, head jerking up to meet Castiel’s gaze. “Oh! Cas! What, not dancing?” He glowered at the dance floor.

“No one to dance with,” Castiel corrected with a suggestive look. Dean blinked, apparently, inexplicably, struck speechless. Or perhaps he’d not understood Castiel’s implication? “Unless…” He held out an offering hand, hardly daring breathe as he mentally prepared for the disappointment of being turned down.

“Wha?” asked Dean dumbly.

Confused, Castiel fought off a grimace. “Would you like to dance with me, Dean?”

“Me?”

“Yes?”

“You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be…” Castiel shook his head. “I’m sorry if my interest offends you. I find your appearance…lovely…and your scent appealing, but if it’s one sided, that’s fine, I won’t ask again.”

“You… _like_...my scent…?” Incredulity accented Dean’s voice, screamed from his slackened facial expression.

The dance ended, happy couples returning to their seats or remaining for the next, talking and shifting about, grabbing drinks, musing about dessert and the cake and the toasts.

Castiel had no idea how to reply, what to make of their conversation. Dean eyed Castiel’s still-outstretched hand as if expecting a trap, a joy buzzer or a fake out, gazing from it to Castiel’s face with bafflement.

“Yes?” ventured Castiel.

“But you’re an omega!” spluttered Dean.

“And you are as well,” Castiel shrugged. “That doesn’t mean we can’t dance.”

“I’m not.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not an omega,” Dean grumbled, finally looking away, his expression going shadowed and closed.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to misjudge!”

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, everyone does – who the fuck wants an alpha who smells like a garden?”

_Alpha._

_He’s an alpha._

_Oh my God._

_That’s…_

Unthinking, Castiel took a step forward and slammed into the table so hard a glass of wine spilled and the centerpiece tipped over. Dean squawked and dove for the elaborate arrangement, catching it before the vase could shatter.

 _He’s an alpha!! That’s_ amazing _._

“Dance with me, Dean!” Castiel said, breathless.

“Are you even fricken listening? I’m not what you’re looking for!”

“No – no, you are, you so are!” Castiel insisted. “Please!”

Dean glanced at him, glanced away, glanced up again, and his furrowed brow gave way to growing wonder. “You…you really want to dance.” Castiel nodded emphatically, gripping the edge of the table for support. “But no one wants—”

“I do!”

Dean didn’t look away again, staring at Castiel in awe, mouth agape, and slowly Castiel saw the traces of a familiar, gorgeous expression staining Dean’s cheeks pink, spreading his lips in a plush smile.

Hope.

“I mean…if you want to dance…if you like my scent…I’d love to dance with you, Dean,” Castiel said sincerely.

Dean vaulted over the table and grabbed a stunned Castiel’s hand from the table, yanking him toward the floor so hard that Castiel’s other hand nearly tugged the tablecloth free. Nearby, someone whooped as Dean swept him into a close dance hold, pressed their hips together, and pulled them both into a gentle sway in time to the music. Dean’s chest was hard, his eyes aglow, his scent…a musky alpha undertone deepened the aroma, strengthened it, and the combination was incredible. It was all Castiel could do not to bury his head in the crook of Dean’s neck and drown in roses.

Dean felt no such restraint. Leaning close, indifferent to who might see, he scented Castiel’s neck, his hair tickling Castiel’s cheek.

“You smell like heaven,” Dean murmured. “But I couldn’t…no one, _no one_ , wants an alpha who smells like Goddamn _flowers_ …”

“I do,” Castiel promised, giving in to his desire and snuffling against Dean’s neck. Slick dampened his behind and he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to feel embarrassed. Let everyone see. It was sappy, romantic, that they’d find each other a wedding, and if they crossed the bounds of propriety, well…Castiel knew for a _fact_ that Michael and Adam met when Adam went into early heat and they had sex in Times Square in front of a thousand damn people. There was video of the two of them projected onto a nearby jumbotron, for goodness sake. Such things happened. Everyone understood.

“You’re comin’ back to my room tonight,” Dean ordered, a hand cradling the small of Castiel’s back possessively. Castiel shivered and nodded. “You like that?”

“I do,” Castiel repeated.

“You want me to take care of you, beautiful omega?”

“I do!” he said again.

“Best wedding ever!” Dean murmured contentedly.

Castiel didn’t respond; he was pretty sure he could think of one wedding that would be better – and felt increasing conviction that his recent spurt of “I dos” were merely the first of many to come.

_Too soon to really say…but I haven’t felt this good about anyone in a long time…maybe it’s okay to hope, a little…maybe it’s okay to tease, to suggest a future…_

“I think we can contrive a better one, if you want,” Castiel replied. “More beer, fewer centerpieces, more rock and roll...” Dean barked an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you want, too, Dean?”

_Oh yeah. This is the start of something good…he’s not spooked, he’s not upset, he’s laughing, he’s beautiful…he’s interested, in the same way I am…no guarantee, there’s never a guarantee, but a chance…_

... _I’ll have to send Michael and Adam a nicer gift…and a thank you note…_

 “I do, Cas. Hell yes, I do.”

_That’s what I want, too…I want this shot…I want you…_

_I do, Dean. I truly, without reservation, do._

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).


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